Love lost
by Irishanam
Summary: Follows the life of Immortal Aingil. From her time as the pre-immortal wife of Caesar Augustus to meeting and falling in love with Methos then to the present. My history could be a bit off as well as some of the Highlander details(i had just started watc
1. Default Chapter

Entering the massive Coliseum that was packed full of Roman Citizens, Aingil immediately felt the buzzing that signaled the presence of another Immortal as they walked past the underground entrance to the gladiators' cells. It caught her by surprise and caused her to stumble slightly and catching the arm of the man beside her. "Are you well, my dear?" He asked anxiously. Cassius was an older man of sixty with white hair, a frail build and a large nose. He was almost a head shorter than Aingil, but few people were her height of five foot eight. "I'm fine. I just tripped on the hem of my gown." She lied, her blue eyes nervously searching the crowd around her. She missed her husband's indulgent smile and the way his brown eyes inspected her proudly as they sat in their box near the Senators. Aingil was tall, ivory skinned and beautiful, standing out among even the visitors to Rome, for her hair was a striking auburn. Her waist length hair was braided and in a crown around her head, adding to the royal look as much as the deep blue satin gown she wore with silver trim. A white veil loosely covered her hair and draped across her neck to fall back over her right shoulder and she was slim, adding height she projected. Shifting with graceful unease, Aingil slid her hand to the base of her neck and fingered the hilt of her short sword that was under her dress in a scabbard between her shoulder blades.  
'No one would dare a quickening in such a public forum...it'd be suicide. Least I hope not.' She knew she'd become paranoid, but her last time in Rome she'd been very prominent and it still worried her despite the time that'd past because few Immortals returned to cities so soon.  
'Soon?! More than a hundred years ago...' Aingil thought with a sigh. Glancing up as the Gladiators entered the arena, Aingil's breath caught in her throat and hr mind few back to her first years in Rome, before she'd been Immortal and she was a woman torn between her husband and the man she loved.  
  
Smiling absently at the female servants' prattle, Aingil strolled slowly through the garden of the Imperial palace. Bending to pick a flower, she was startled as her maids went suddenly silent and she straightened to see a man approaching, nodding absently at her praetorians as they just let him walk past. "Lucia, what is this?" Aingil didn't speak quietly or conceal her statement from the man, her voice regal and commanding to fit her position as she looked at the small, dark haired servant beside her. "He is the secretary of petitions and correspondence for the Caesar, my lady." Lifting an eyebrow, Aingil knew that despite the attire that pegged him as a slave, the title made him one of Augustus' secretaries of state and she waited for him to speak. "I am Remus." He stated in an almost amused voice that had no particular accent that Aingil could place. Slightly intrigued by that and his proud, unslavelike demeanor, she waved her maids away to a discreet distance and gestured for him to walk with her. Not speaking, Aingil studied him frankly. Few men were her height, Augustus was even an inch shorter than his wife, but this man was about six feet tall. His hair was black like her Italian husband's, but Remus had fair skin, high cheekbones and green eyes that were watching Aingil with an intensity that made her blush and duck her head. "I'd heard Caesar's second wife was beautiful, but words don't do you justice." He commented under his breath, openly amused as she blushed further. "You blush as though you've never been complimented." "I am married and to the Caesar, no less! Few men speak so boldly and nor should you for I am sure you know my husband's stance on morality." "I do and that is what I wish to discuss with you, but it doesn't change the fact that you are exquisite." Remus murmured, his voice deepening. Shaking her head absently, Aingil frowned. "Why do you wish to discuss Augustus' laws of morality with me? Shouldn't you bee speaking with him?" "I wish to be forewarned on his possible reaction when I talk to him and I figured you to be the best judge." "Wise...Very well, what is your question?" Aingil asked, lifting the hem of her plain white tunic slightly as she stepped over a small puddle in the path. "Why does Augustus not adorn you more handsomely? Is he that jealous?" Remus asked with a frown as his eyes traveled over her plain attire, which gave no hint of her high position in Roman society. "That's your question?!" Aingil replied with a slight laugh of disbelief. "No...I'm just curious. You should be adorned in silks, satins and jewels as Cleopatra was." "I don't wish to be compared with such a person!" Aingil practically shouted, her blue eyes flashing with fire. The sound of her raised voice caused the praetorians to immediately draw swords and move toward them while Remus paled. "I never meant to offend, my lady. I only meant you should have the best!" Calmed quickly by his honest apology, Aingil didn't glance at the soldiers who stood behind her, raising her hand to send them back. "What did you wish to discuss, sir?" She asked softly, starting to walk again. "It's the Caesar's daughter, Julia...She's laid with many men in the upper Roman classes and rumors are beginning to spread." Remus confessed gently. Aingil missed a step and Remus took her arm to steady her, unaware of the effect it had on her equilibrium. "I have proof, my lady. I'm just not sure if the Caesar will 'shoot the messenger' in his anger at her disobedience." "I know of this already." Aingil confessed, gently freeing herself from his grasp as she took a deep breath. "He knows as well and has done nothing?!" Remus asked in surprise, "I think the law rather silly myself, but I thought Caesar to be fair about..." "He doesn't know..." Aingil admitted miserably, "I've been trying to befriend Julia and save her from herself, but apparently she's lied to me about stopping these...trysts. I am about her age and it annoys her that Augustus is so...devoted to me. This will wound him deeply, but we should tell him." "We?! My lady, you needn't..." Remus protested in surprise. "I should be there. He'll need me." Aingil stated firmly. Waving for the servants and guards to follow them back the to the palace, Aingil missed Remus' look of admiration at her strength, mixed with a strong, unbridled, and almost dangerous desire.  
  
Glancing up from the pile of parchment on the large wooden desk before him, Augustus waved for Aingil to enter and finished signing a document before pushing them all aside. He rose and moved to the ornate, throne like chair nearby, frankly measuring Remus as he spotted the slave trailing his wife. The Caesar was a handsome man with olive skin, black hair and brown eyes that revealed his Italian origin, but he was only 5'7 and despite a modest front, wore lifts in his shoes. Waiting patiently for his wife to explain her presence and the man trailing her, Augustus looked at her with a pleased air, unaware that Remus was fighting jealousy. "Caesar, we must speak with you. I believe you'd prefer if it was alone." Aingil murmured, her expression tight with worry and pain. Raising an eyebrow, Augustus nodded slightly and the aides left as the two praetorians moved just out of earshot, leaning on their spears comfortably, despite the black armor they always wore. "Remus." Aingil prompted softly, moving to sit on a low couch nearby. She didn't recline as was normal and Remus glanced at her curiously, but assumed it was because of the Caesar's presence. Clearing his throat, Remus moved closer and kept his voice low. "It's your daughter, sire." "What about her?" Augustus asked sharply, his body tensing. His tone would normally have sent shivers of fear down a man's spine, but Aingil saw a light of amusement in Remus' eyes as he dropped his head submissively.  
'What a very odd slave. He's so proud and self confident, but makes all the right moves to keep from seeming disobedient.' Drawing her attention back to the words, Aingil started as Augustus replied to Remus' information. "She's what?!" He bellowed, anger reverberating through the large open room into the rest of the palace. "Servants at the Villa asked my advice on how to proceed, Caesar." Remus continued in calming, soothing voice. "They are having a hard time keeping this quiet. It's as if Julia wishes to be caught." Rising, Augustus clasped his hands behind his back and frowned irritably as he began to pace. "Maybe if you talk to her, Augustus..." Aingil suggested softly, worry creasing her brow as she watched her husband pace. Aingil could see Augustus was torn between his filial feeling and his strong belief in moral behavior and she glanced at Remus to see if he noticed. To Aingil's surprise, Remus wasn't watching Augustus but her, his eyes dark with desire.  
'Is he insane?!' Aingil thought, her eyes wide, 'If Augustus notices, he'll...' "I will write to Julia and make her come here." Augustus finally stated, coming to a stop. "Nothing will be said until I see her face to face. Do you understand?" They both nodded and Augustus raked a hand through his short hair. "Aingil, you are the only person I trust without reservation...I am going to have this slave assigned to your service until I have dealt with Julia. You make sure that he remains silent." Aingil's jaw dropped and she rose, desperately trying to find an excuse for this not to happen. "But...As my personal slave?! Augustus, that's such a step down from his current position in charge of so many others! What will the slaves think?" "My dear wife always so concerned for others." Augustus stated in a slightly patronizing voice that made Remus clench his jaw in anger. Augustus paid the man no attention and continued: "He'll be reinstated when I've spoken with and punished Julia. I'll tell the servants I was concerned for your safety and assigned him to you. He's large enough that they'll believe in some threat on your life." "Of course, Augustus." Aingil responded as required, unconsciously biting her lip in concern. "Go to your chambers then. I'll have him write up a letter to Julia and then he'll be along." Bowing slightly at the dismissal, Aingil turned heel and walked quickly through the palace. 


	2. Death

Entering her rooms, Aingil impatiently dismissed all her maids except Lucia and began pacing, picking up her fan and irritably flicking it against her leg. She was pale, her expression tight and Lucia put aside her book with a concerned expression. "Was Augustus really upset about Julia?" Stopping midstep, Aingil gave her best friend a confused look. "I know Remus. That's how he found us this afternoon after telling me why he needed to see you." Lucia admitted, pushing an unruly black curl behind her ear. Aingil had known Lucia before her marriage to Caesar and gotten the woman hired on her personal staff. "Is he Immortal as well?" Aingil asked softly, meeting Lucia's brown eyes. Nodding, Lucia was still amazed by Aingil's calm with the concept. Lucia had been stabbed and killed by her abusive husband in their homeland of Britannia. She'd woken in the middle of her own wake and of all of her family and friends, only Aingil didn't believe her to be a witch or demon. Fleeing Britain, they'd separated while another Immortal trained Lucia and Aingil went to Rome, catching the eye of a widowed Caesar. "What's worrying you?" Lucia asked, wishing she could tell Aingil the one secret she had--that Aingil was a pre-Immortal. "Augustus has assigned Remus to me for the next few weeks until Julia arrives for her summons." "That's great!" Lucia gushed with a grin, "you'll like him...He's devilishly fun!" "I don't know..." Aingil mused with a frown, "I don't like the way he..." "Here he comes." Lucia interrupted softly. Glancing at her, Aingil nodded though she still didn't understand the 'buzz' Lucia said she felt when another Immortal approached. Remus entered the chambers and smiled slightly at Lucia while Aingil realized that his unslavelike behavior probably came from his being Immortal and not always having been a slave. He now wore a broadsword, sheathed at his waist and he paced the room, looking around as he tried not to gaze hungrily at Aingil, who looked so irritated, lost and hurt all at once. "Well, I hope you're prepared." He said finally, "Because Julia is going to be one hell of an angry princess when she comes home to daddy."  
  
Sitting on a marble bench with a book in her hand, Aingil stared down at the page and tried not to laugh out loud. Her maids were falling all over themselves to flirt with Remus and gain his sole attention and she found it amusing. Seeing Aingil's lips twitch, Remus fought feelings that had grown overwhelmingly in the last few weeks and he smiled absently at a young girl, missing her blush of pleasure. A raven haired, expensively dressed woman caught his eye as she walked quickly through the garden and Remus' eyes narrowed suspiciously. Rising, he ignored the maids' protests and moved to Aingil's bench, standing behind her protectively just as the woman's shadow fell over Aingil's book. "I wish to speak with you alone." The woman stated, her tone demanding rather than requesting. Glancing up at the nasal voice, Aingil dismissed her maids with a gesture and unconsciously shifted closer to Remus as she closed her book and set it on the bench beside her. "Yes, Julia?" "Him, too!" Julia demanded, her green eyes glaring over Aingil's shoulder at Remus. "Remus..." Aingil began hesitantly, doubt in her eyes as she glanced back at him. "I'm staying, my lady, as the Caesar wishes." He growled, the steel edge to his voice and warning in his eyes making Julia swallow hard. "Is he trustworthy?" Julia asked, pouting as she looked down at her stepmother. "He's kept your...activities quiet since Augustus had him write the summons letter." Aingil stated, her tone protective for reasons she didn't quite understand. "Hmm..." Julia was looking between the two of them contemplatively and Aingil shifted slightly with discomfort at her amused and calculating expression. "The lady has things to do. What do you want?" Remus asked icily, lifting an eyebrow impatiently. Julia glared at him again, only to receive a sardonic smile and she was annoyed by the lack of respect or even attraction most men showed for her, in Remus' face and stance. "Just who do you think you are, you...common Britannic harlot?!" She hissed, taking her anger out on Aingil. Flinching as if she'd been struck, Aingil paled, but instead of responding to her stepdaughter, she reached back and caught the hand she instinctively knew Remus had on his sword. Smiling cruelly at her stepmother's silence, Julia missed the gesture as she continued: "What did you say to my father to make him order me home like some brainless child?! My private affairs are none of your concern or his!" Julia panted with anger, her eyes flashing and Remus moved closer to Aingil to confess it was his information the Caesar heard, but Aingil spoke first. "You lied to me, Julia." Aingil stated coldly, her chin set so regally it was almost painful. "I tried to help you and you betrayed my trust by going out and behaving even worse than you had been. I told Augustus information he should have known right away. You broke laws he set by cheating on your husband and behaving immorally. Augustus has the right to deal with you as he sees fit." "You..." Julia began, her eyes full of hate. "We're finished, Julia. Please go." Aingil interrupted inflexibly, her blue eyes hard as she and Julia stared at each other. Breaking away first, Julia stalked away angrily.  
  
Sitting rigidly, Aingil continued to stare at the spot Julia left and she didn't notice Remus move around the bench to sit beside her. He reached out to take her hand and Aingil started in surprise, despite his calming murmurs in her ear. "This is bad. I'm afraid of what she'll do, Remus." Aingil confessed, turning to him. "Methos." "What?" Aingil asked in confusion, looking up at him with wide eyes. "My real name is Methos...Just between us." He informed her softly, reaching up to touch her cheek. "I...Alright, Methos." She agreed shyly, blushing at his intense gaze and unconsciously leaning into his touch. "She won't hurt you while I'm here, I swear it." Remus murmured, sliding his hand back to cup her neck. Before Aingil could respond, he pulled her close with his other arm around her waist and claimed her lips with his gently. She tasted of apples and Remus groaned in his throat with desire as he moved his hand from her neck to her hair. Before he could deepen the kiss, however, Aingil pulled away abruptly, agony written on her face as she inhaled raggedly. "No, Methos...I can't." She whispered breathlessly, stiltedly removing herself from any contact with him. "There's no one here to know!" Remus protested almost desperately. He'd never felt this way about someone and feeling her pull away hurt more than an dagger through the heart.  
'And I've felt that more than once...' He thought dryly. "I'd know, Methos and I'd never be able to live with myself if I betrayed my husband." He could see her protest was automatic and that all he had to do was pull her back against him and she'd be unable to do anything but yield to her feelings. Resisting baser and stronger instincts that even just months ago would have won out, Remus only watched as she rose elegantly from the bench and fled toward the palace.  
  
Hearing a twig break as Aingil fled, Remus' hand slid to his sword as he turned, only to relax slightly as he found Caesar Augustus behind him. "Loyalty is important to my wife, Remus." He stated with quiet certainty. "I don't know what you mean, Caesar." Remus lied, rising stiffly and wondering what, if anything, the ruler had heard. "She'll never be unfaithful to me or betray me as long as I'm alive. It's one of her most endearing qualities." "Endearing qualities?! You speak of her as if she's a loyal dog, Caesar!" Remus growled, clenching his fists in frustration. "Not a dog...A friend. Aingil and I did not marry for love, but we have come to respect and trust each other..." Breaking off, Augustus frowned before continuing, his voice menacing. "She seems to love you, Slave. Hurt her and I'll haunt you through eternity." His grim warning echoed through the garden before he walked away in dismissal. Smiling dryly, only Remus knew the possibilities that threat presented.  
  
Pacing outside Aingil's rooms, Remus knew he should be considering the implications of Augustus' decision to exile Julia for her behavior, but his mind was drawn to the kiss he and Aingil had in the garden. Smiling absently, Remus was distracted and by the time he heard the scuff of a sandal on the floor it was too late. Pain shot through Remus' back and chest and he knew immediately that he'd been stabbed. The blade was twisted in his back and Remus' experience told him what it was.  
'Stiletto blade. It's a woman...Damn. Aingil...' Staggering against a nearby column, Remus fought against the darkness of death and tried to withdraw his sword, but it was too late. The last thing he saw before death over took him was Julia's smirking face.  
  
Sliding her sandals off before she entered the rooms, Julia silently paused in the doorway, withdrawing the larger dagger she carried. From informants she'd bullied into talking, Julia knew her father was working late and wouldn't come to his wife while Lucia was with her own husband, something she did more often now that Remus was there to protect Aingil.  
'Not anymore though...' Julia thought with a cat like grin, remembering the knife she'd left in his back. Moving waiflike from column to marble column, Julia made it to Aingil's bedside and looked down at her stepmother. Aingil slept fitfully, tossing her head side to side slightly as she muttered softly and Julia wondered briefly what she was dreaming about. Shaking her head, Julia murmured a prayer to the gods and as her stepmother turned on her back in sleep, thrust the dagger into her heart. Bolting upright in shock, Aingil gasped in pain and tried to get her breath. Her eyes were drawn to the unrelenting pain in her chest, Aingil looked down to find the dagger and blood completely soaking her nightgown and bed sheets. Julia started backing away from the bed in shock, not quite believing she'd done it and Aingil's wide eyed gaze flew to her stepdaughter. The disbelief, disappointment and pain in her eyes would haunt Julia for the rest of her life and she turned and ran tearfully as Aingil collapsed on the bed and died. 


	3. Rebirth, training and the pain of loss

"Good morning." Remus' voice said tightly as Aingil sat up with the strangled gasp of an Immortal reawakening after death. She found herself lying in Remus' arms as they bounced around in a carriage. Lucia sat on the seat across from them, her eyes worried in the pale dawn sunlight. "J-Julia..." "She killed you violently, awakening your Immortality." Remus finished, almost apologetically. Frowning in confusion, Aingil leaned unconsciously closer to him as she looked up. "Anyone who is killed violently becomes Imm..." "No, you have to be...predisposed for it." Lucia interrupted, drawing Aingil's gaze. "I should have told you that we can sense..." Her eyes showed she was sorry and Aingil gave her a weak smile before looking back up at Remus. "But why me? And where are we going?" She finished, glancing out the window with a furrowed brow. "No one knows why. We simply are." Remus stated, ignoring the second question. Pursing her lips, Lucia glanced at him before answering gently. "We're leaving Italy. Everyone in the Imperial Palace thinks you're dead...You can't stay in the country where you could be recognized." "So where are we going?" Aingil asked quietly, no sign of what she was feeling in her voice or on her face. "I have a...home in Petra. We can train there and think of our next move without being bothered." Remus informed them both. "Petra?! Are you mad?" Lucia exclaimed, "Petra is the center of all trade routes! Someone could come from Rome who..." "You've never been to Petra, correct?" Remus interrupted, cutting Lucia off as he unconsciously pressed Aingil's head to his shoulder and began stroking her hair. Lucia gave him a look questioning the relevance and Remus smiled, disarming her irritation. "Petra's a busy city of traders, yeah? Because of the constant move of people passing through the city, few people get to know their neighbors or pay attention to new ones. It's one of the safest places we can take Aingil to." "But that's so horrible! Not knowing your own neighbors..." Aingil said sadly. "Perhaps, but its good for relocating Immortals and I believe will be the city of the future as travel increases." Lucia shook her head in disbelief at his prediction and settled back against her seat for a long journey.  
  
Pouring a ladle full of water over his head and shaking like a puppy, Remus smiled and leaned on his sword as he handed the ladle to Aingil. "You've improved well this year." He stated, his eyes smoldering as Aingil set down her sword and refilled the ladle, drinking from it. "I had a good teacher. Besides, any improvement is better than what I knew when we got here." Moving to the window, Aingil looked down at the monks walking nearby and wondered what they thought about the sound of clashing steel happening near their peaceful monastery. Her attention on the monks, Aingil missed seeing Remus set his sword on the tan cloak laying on the floor. Moving to stand behind her, he paused for a moment before turning her gently by her shoulders. "Aingil, its been almost a year and I..." Breaking off, Remus searched her face before he captured her mouth with his in a spine weakening kiss. When he released her, Aingil's eyes were wide with surprise and desire, her lips full and slightly bruised from his mouth as she gazed up at him. Blinking, Aingil caught Remus off guard and slapped him, the crack echoing through the room. Remus didn't move, staring down at her to find confusion, pain and a slight anger in her face. "You had no right." She whispered, her voice raw with pain. "What are you talking about?" Remus demanded, shaking her slightly, "Do you know how HARD its been for me to wait this long? In my past, I would've just raped you the minute I saw you!" Jerking free of him, Aingil put her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing angrily. She knew him well enough to know that he was speaking half truths to deflect her from his real pain, but she didn't feel like fighting through his barriers that shifted like the sands of the desert around them. "You waited?! So what, Methos! I'm married!" "To a man who thinks you dead and has REMARRIED! How long will you hold on to this?! 'Til his death?! That can be arranged." He finished with a dangerously dark look in his eyes that made Aingil step back slightly before her temper spurred her on. "How do I know you didn't let this happen?" She accused, glaring up at him. "Let what happen?" Remus asked, caught off balance by her change of subject.  
'Damn women! They maneuver around subjects more than a cheetah trying to catch a gazelle!' "Let Julia kill me!" Aingil blasted, tears filling her blue eyes. "Hey, not fair! No tears." Remus growled, raking a hand through his lengthening black hair. It had grown out nicely from the short Roman style he'd had and Aingil sniffed, wiping her eyes as she tried to fight attraction for him. "I pushed you away in the garden because of my marriage to Augustus and you didn't stop Julia that night even though you'd promised she wouldn't hurt me!" Snatching up his sword and cloak, Remus gave Aingil a wounded look that made inhale sharply. "I'd been thinking of YOU and she stabbed me. I couldn't help you because I was rather DEAD!" Moving to the doorway, he added over his shoulder: "When you get over this blind loyalty to a husband you never loved, find me. I'm Immortal so I'll probably be around awhile." As he left, Aingil dropped to her knees in tears, sure she'd never see him again and too proud to call him back.  
  
'Until now.' Aingil thought, brought back to 93AD with a jolt as the crowd reached a crescendo and steel clashed, echoing through the Coliseum. Sunlight flashed blindingly off of the sword blades as the gladiators moved in a dance driving them ever closer to death, dust from their sandals kicked up in an almost unnatural fog so they seemed to take on a supernatural look. Unconsciously leaning forward on the bench she sat on, Aingil couldn't tear her eyes away from Methos' tall, muscled form as he fought off two other gladiators and shook sweat from his eyes. She knew all he had to do was protect his neck, but she was still concerned and her eyes followed every swing of the blades. Methos thrust a sword into the chest of one man and slit the throat of the other and Aingil released a breath of relief as he became the only man standing. She slumped slightly on the bench, oblivious as the crowd of fifty thousand jumped to their feet and cheered with pleasure, flowers raining down on the lone figure standing in the arena.  
  
He'd sensed the Immortal presence immediately and Methos spotted Aingil among the white toga wearing old men of the Senate. Wiping sweat, blood and dust off his face with his arm, Methos bent and picked up a red rose that had been thrown down by some admiring woman in the stands. Known only as Sergius, Methos wasn't a crowd loving gladiator. He usually ignored the adoration and attention of the Roman people so they watched in confused silence as he kissed the petals of the flower and tossed it to the rich senator's wife before bowing to the Emperor Domitian and disappearing in the underground entrance of the Coliseum's game tunnels and cells.  
  
Gently tracing the rose's petals, Aingil ignored Cassius' bragging to his fellow senators as he puffed up proudly because 'Sergius' had decided Cassius' wife was worthy of his attention.  
'Augustus would have taken the compliments stiffly and sent a guard to Methos, telling him to never again do such a thing, a threat backing the command.' As they reached a major Roman intersection, Cassius waved for his African slave, Djimon, to escort Aingil home and went off with his friends to the Senate. Watching until her husband was out of sight, Aingil turned back toward the Coliseum and the Gladiator section of Rome. She walked with her mind in the past and didn't notice how the busy Roman crowd widened a path for her after a glowering look from the huge African man who followed her. 


	4. Gladiatorbtw manumission is giving a rom...

Standing in the courtyard, Aingil didn't approach any of the men swarming around, her carriage exuding prestige and power. Recognizing wealth in her woman's dress as Aingil lazily flicked a fan, Claudius Lucius pushed his slave list at a servant and crossed the yard pushing and ordering men out of his way. "My lady." He cooed, straightening his toga, "What can I do for you?" Coolly looking over the short, thin man, Aingil's gaze made him fidget and pat his balding head nervously. She disliked the look of his weasel-like eyes and after staring him down, she spoke. "I wish to see the owner of this...establishment." To Aingil's irritation, Claudius preened and grinned up at her, missing the distaste in her voice. "I own this establishment, and all the gladiators within it, my lady. Is there as slave you wish to...meet?" Having heard that many wealthy women in Rome paid to seduce the rough, strong gladiators and aware that this man thought she was the same type, Aingil stiffened causing Djimon to step forward and loom over Claudius threateningly. Sighing, Aingil knew this wasn't the way to see Methos and she waved Djimon back, aware that he crossed his arms to flex muscle in warning. "I wish to see the one you call 'Sergius'." She stated at last, her voice low. Giving her a knowing glance, Claudius smiled, but shook his head. "You can't. His only term for winning and fighting is he will not entertain women." Her only reaction was to raise an eyebrow and hold out her hand. Djimon pulled the rose from a small rosewood box inside the messenger bag he carried and laid it in her hand without comment. "Take this to him. I think he'll change his mind this once." Claudius looked skeptical, but hoping for a pay off, he headed to the gladiator cells.  
  
From the look of confusion and surprise on Claudius' face, Methos had agreed and Aingil suppressed a smile, handing her parasol to Djimon. "Wait here for me. I shan't be long." Aingil stated, covering her hair with her veil and tossing the end over her shoulder. "My lady..." Djimon's brown eyes were worried and Aingil smiled reassuringly. "This man was a...friend of my family's before he was made a slave. No harm will come to me as long as he or you draw breath." "Yes, my lady." Djimon said reluctantly as she followed Claudius to the cells.  
  
"You'll be paid when I've seen him. Now leave me!" Aingil's voice ordered regally as the cell gate creaked open. Lifting his head, Methos watched Aingil glide into the dank, dirt floored cell and he suppressed a sigh before opening his mouth to speak. "It's been..." Shaking her head, Aingil crossed her arms. "You will stop listening at the door or I'll not pay a denarii!" There was shuffling outside the door and Aingil listened for a moment before visibly relaxing and looking over at Methos. "It has been a long time...Why are you still a slave?" She frowned in confusion and Methos looked away to fight the urge to kiss her. "I haven't been for almost the whole time since we....since I left Petra. Honestly, I..." He broke off, tugging unconsciously at the irons on his wrists, chaining him to the stone wall. Stepping forward with concern, Aingil reached up to touch his face, but froze as he looked up. Methos didn't hide his feelings and Aingil saw his age, desolation and weariness. "I'm so sick of the Game, love. I'm three thousand years old and the point of all of this still makes no sense to me. I'd planned to let one of the gladiators take my head today and damn the consequences that a public Quickening would've brought. If you hadn't been in the stands..." He sighed and Aingil fought tears at implications of his statement and the pain in his voice. Forcing him to meet her determined look, Aingil cradled Methos' face in her hands. "I'm going to get you out of here, Methos. You don't deserve this and I will free you." Kissing his forehead gently, Aingil determinedly left the cell.  
  
Glaring at Claudius with an icy stare that made him pale and straighten in his chair, Aingil took a calming breath. "Name a price, sir. I will not be denied ownership of this man." "My lady, he's my best gladiator! The money I could make for just his death is massive! He is a strong asset in..." Aingil slammed her fist on the desk causing Claudius to break off with a squeak of surprise. "Don't anger me, you cretin! My husband is a prominent senator and..." "Don't threaten me with your husband, my lady! Not even he could get the Senate to free all the slaves in Rome." Claudius said arrogantly. Reaching up as if to scratch the back of her neck, Aingil flicked her wrist and Claudius gulped slightly as a sword blade tickled his Adam's apple. "Your slave is weary, sir, and if you don't sell him to me, I fear he'll purposely loose his head in the arena. Consider yourself warned, for if he dies, you die next by my own hand." Smiling coldly, Aingil resheathed her sword and left the office.  
  
Meeting Dijmon in the courtyard, Aingil made him stop to hand her her parasol and signaled him to walk slowly. Watching her stroll sedately toward the gate, Claudius knew no one would believe that such a feminine creature had shown such a cold and calculating ability with a sword and threats. Inhaling raggedly, Claudius moved quickly to go after her, ordering his scribe to begin drawing up the slave's selling papers.  
  
"My lady, a rather...questionable man stands outside with his slave claming you have business with him." Writing in the household book, Aingil answered absently. "Who is it, Justus?" "He calls himself Claudius Lucius, my lady. Shall I send him away?" Hearing a low growl in his voice, Aingil was aware that the tall, muscled blonde would enjoy doing just that and she suppressed a smile. "Not just yet, Justus. I want to buy the slave first. Be polite until I have the papers, then you can toss him out upon his..." "Asinus?" Justus finished hopefully. "Yes." Aingil agreed with a grin. "Show him in politely and then bring some vinum." Bowing, Justus left the room and Aingil shut her ledger, sliding it onto a shelf behind the desk. The office room was elegant with furnishings made of dark wood covered in bright sun colored fabric that matched the sunburst mosaic on the wall opposite Aingil's desk. The room was bright with sunlight from the windows and a breeze carried lightly through the curtains. It was Aingil's favorite room in the house and she'd furnished everything and bought all the books in it. Cassius lived mostly off of her money, but it gave her free reign so she didn't mind. Moving around the desk, Aingil sat on the low couch, not lounging on it as was common practice. She was wearing a simple white gown, but the elegance of the room compensated so Aingil fought the urge to change into something richer and more powerful looking. Claudius and Methos entered and Aingil smiled warmly, mostly for Methos, but Claudius preened in the glow of it. "Please sit down. Ah, here is Justus with the wine. Won't you have some?" Pouring the wine into glasses on the silver tray Justus held, Aingil threw Claudius off balance by serving Methos a glass as well as he stood behind Claudius' chair. Justus' eyebrow raised a fraction as he glanced at Methos' leather wrist bands, signaling he was a slave, but the German didn't comment and moved to stand near the door in case Aingil needed something else. "Have you brought the papers?" Aingil asked calmly, sipping her wine as her cool eyes watched Claudius. She was wary of him, aware that he may have realized how much she wanted Methos and use it against her. She knew this gave her a weakness because she'd do anything to save Methos from this life and the almost desperation she'd seen in his eyes. "Yes, my lady. All the deed needs is a price and our signatures." "Very well. I'll be blunt...I'll give you five aureus-no more, no less." All three men gasped in surprise at the offer of five gold pieces and Aingil smiled sardonically. "Shall we sign the papers?" Nodding while still in shock, Claudius pulled the papers from his toga and Aingil rose, setting them on her desk as she picked up a stylus. Filing in the price and signing her name, Aingil handed the writing instrument to Claudius and waited patiently while he scratched his name on the paper. She opened an ebony box on the desk and produced a bag of money, handing it to Claudius as she picked up the deed to Methos' life. "Our business is concluded then." "Yes, my lady! If you ever tire of him and wish another..." "I shan't see you again. That is a guarantee." Aingil cut him off coldly. "Surely as a lover, he's not..." Claudius began, bewildered. "I would not cheat on my husband! It's immoral!" Aingil stated sharply, stiffening. "Come, my lady, this isn't the time of old Caesar Augustus! You..." "Don't talk to me of Caesar Augustus! Get out!" Aingil found herself practically shaking with rage and she watched angrily as Justus hauled Claudius from the room. Starting as a hand touched her arm, Aingil turned and found Methos with arms open. Going to him, she clung tightly as he rubbed soothing circles over her back.  
  
Sitting on a marble bench in the atrium, Aingil felt an Immortal approaching and glanced up to smile as Lucia approached. "Hey, puella. How is Gabriele?" "Stubborn as ever and busy with the harvest." She sat beside Aingil and fanned herself as they looked at the flowers moving slightly in the breeze from the open ceiling of the room. "Have you decided if you'll tell him you're Immortal?" Aingil asked softly, fingering the petals of a nearby flower. Sighing, Linda brushed a curl off her face. "No. I'm no sure what I'll do." She admitted. "Tell him, luv. You love him! If you tell him then if anything happens, you can stay with him. You'd have to relocate but...." "Would you have?" Lucia interrupted, glancing over at her friend. "What, told Cassius? I'm not really ever planning on it...I don't love him." "Not Cassius...Augustus. If you'd known, would you have told him?" "Relocating the Emperor of Rome would've been difficult." Aingil joked with a slight smile. "If that hadn't been a factor," Lucia began slowly, "Did you...love him enough to want to tell him?" Staring into space, Aingil didn't answer immediately. "I...thought I did once, but then..." Sensing another Immortal and catching a slight movement across the atrium, Lucia looked up to see someone she recognized. "Remus." Sighing, Aingil nodded. "He would be the reason I know I didn't love Augustus."  
  
Trying not to be uncomfortable as she reclined on the low couch for dinner, Aingil bit into a piece of pomegranate and smiled absently as conversation swirled around her. Of the twelve guests, only Lucia and Gabriele were Aingil's intimates and the three of them had been unable to turn the conversation from political matters. Both Aingil and Lucia suddenly became attentive as one of the Senators brought up Caesar Augustus. "Moral? He was married three times and..." "His second wife was assassinated, sir. Some say by his daughter, who he exiled the same year." Aingil interrupted coolly. "He probably killed her himself." The Senator stated with a smile at the other men, showing he was only indulging her. "Augustus would never steep so low and evilly!" Aingil shot back, straightening hot-temperedly and ignoring Lucia's hand on her arm. Stunned silence filled the room as Aingil glared at the man and Cassius tried to fix things. "You'll have to forgive my wife, Gaius...She has an uncommon fondness for Rome's first princeps." The Senators laughed it off and Aingil started to retort, but pause as Justus moved into the doorway and worriedly tried to catch her attention as he practically wrung his hands. Discreetly waving him to her side, Aingil wondered if something was wrong in the kitchen. Kneeling so no one would overhear, Justus spoke urgently. "My lady, you must come to the slaves' courtyard." "What's wrong?" Aingil asked sharply, concerned by his tight expression and pale face. "One of the slaves has been jealous of Sergius, my lady. I'm sure Sergius could defeat him as a former gladiator, but he won't fight back...He's being brutally beaten." Justus looked bewildered by this as Aingil's throat constricted in worry. Rising quickly, she gestured for Justus to follow her. "Aingil..." Cassius began, surprised by her behavior. "Just a question in the kitchen. Lucia would you like to come? I can show you that...plate I was telling you about." Confused, Lucia saw Aingil's rigid stance and nodded, smiling carelessly as she rose and followed.  
  
Rushing through the house, Aingil didn't notice Lucia's curious glances as she almost ran to keep up with Aingil and Justus' long strides. Bursting through the large double doors to the slaves' quarters and courtyard, Aingil didn't break stride as she pulled her sword from the hidden sheath and approached the crowd of men undetected. Lucia withdrew her own sword, concerned as she saw ten or more men in the courtyard. Most gathered in a circle, cheering whatever was occurring in their midst. A few others, including Djimon, stood aside and watched in concern, aware that they hadn't the numbers to stop the others. Stopping, Aingil spoke in what Lucia teasingly called her 'Empress' tone. "What the Tartarus is going on here?! Someone had better have an explanation or I'll set everyone of you out on the streets of Rome!" All but two of the men spun around and stepped back in surprise at the ease with which Aingil held the weapon. A medium build, brown haired man threw one last kick at the man in the dirt and turned, causing Aingil to stiffen. "Ugo. I should've guessed." His brown eyes looked Aingil over insultingly and Lucia tensed, her grip on her sword tightening. Ignoring Ugo, Aingil gaze went to Methos, who sat up slowly with pain etched in his face as he clasped his ribs with his right hand. He'd taught her Arabic in Petra and she used it now, surprising her slaves further though they had no idea what language it was. "Are you alright, luv?" "Yes." Methos answered in the same language, wiping blood from his forehead. Immortals healed quickly so Aingil knew the gash had to be deep to still be bleeding and it made her frown with worry. "We were just having a bit of fun." Ugo interrupted, irritated to find Aingil and Methos sharing something else. "I'm sick of you and your bits of 'fun', Ugo. You are a bully and all around rude to everyone!" "It isn't my fault he couldn't beat me!" Ugo protested, "I guess the gladiator isn't as good as people think." "Correction, he wouldn't fight you, Ugo!" Aingil said angrily, "I know for a fact he could easily kill you if he wanted to! I managed to break your arm last year and 'Sergius' taught me everything I know about self defense and fighting." Lucia suppressed as smile as a murmur went through the slaves followed by slight laughter and she knew Ugo hadn't told anyone the truth about his arm. "Why'd you break his arm?" Methos asked sharply, getting to his feet with a slow movement that showed his injuries were still healing. Aingil looked slightly embarrassed and Methos' green eyes narrowed. "Aingil?" The command in his voice made the other men gasp, but Aingil only sighed. "Ugo was owned by an abusive man who was overly fond of flogging his slaves. I turned him into the Roman Guard and bought some of the slaves, making sure the rest got decent homes. Ugo seemed to think I had other...motives for buying and keeping him. I broke his arm when he was...unsure what I meant by 'no'." Aingil colored as fury filled Methos' face and the other slaves shifted away from Ugo in disgust and shock. In the Roman Empire, a result of Augustus' laws, rape was considered to be one of the worst and lowest crimes and for a slave to try and rape his mistress was a crime warranting death. Moving to Aingil's side with surprising agility, Methos took her sword and swung it easily, loosening muscles in his arm before turning to Lucia. "Give your sword to Ugo please." He stated with a tone of command. In a fog, Lucia found herself agreeing and watching without pity as Ugo stared down at the weapon as if he'd never seen one before.  
  
"I don't know this sword..." Ugo protested weakly, confused by the situation he suddenly found himself in. "I've never used this weapon and it doesn't bother me." Methos stated unsympathetically, "Surely you don't wish to back out now that the gladiator wants to fight back?" Methos lifted an eyebrow in question and Lucia found herself oddly reminded of Caesar Augustus when he was annoyed. Infuriated by Methos' attitude and the way he seemed to act above his station, Ugo released a low growl and swung the sword wildly. Ducking quickly with a painful grunt, Methos used the back of the sword against Ugo's knees and knocked him to the dirt. The other slaves moved aside to give the combatants room and Lucia pulled Aingil over with her to stand with Justus as they watched. The sword blades clashed and Methos deflected all of Ugo's frenzied swings of attack and Ugo grew more furious as he began wearing himself out. "Fight back, you damn nothus!" Ugo fumed, panting. "Very well." Methos replied calmly. Pausing for a moment, Methos attacked and drove Ugo back until the slave found himself against the wall of the slave housing. Pressing his blade against the tender flesh of Ugo's neck, Methos' eyes glittered dangerously and he smiled coldly, making Ugo swallow hard. Methos let the blade break the skin and droplets of blood slide down the tilted steel. "If I ever hear of you treating any woman badly, I'll track you down and kill you using a slow, long method of death. Believe me, I know old methods of torture that can have you lingering for weeks." Pushing him away roughly, Methos started to turn away, but changed his mind. "One more thing. If you ever show Aingil anything other than groveling respect, I'll skin you alive and leave your carcass in the Egyptian desert for the demons to entertain themselves with. Are we clear?" Wide eyed, Ugo nodded vigorously and slumped to the ground as Methos walked away.  
  
Disappearing after Methos, Aingil followed him into his room and closed the door. "What were you thinking?! Immortals heal quickly as you well know and everyone's going to question it!" "I have to get out of here...Your home and Rome." Methos confessed softly as Aingil picked up a cloth and reached to wash some blood from his face. Her hands fell at his statement and Aingil tried to hide her pain and hurt. "B-But..." "We both know you'll not cheat on your husband no matter how little you love him and I can't stay and watch you with him, waiting for Cassius to die." Methos explained gently, "Adding to that, rumors have it that Fatimar was slain and I am now the oldest living Immortal. That will cause Immortals from all the world to start looking for me, putting you in danger if I remain. I'm so tired of blood games, Aingil, and I think I'll just...disappear for a while. Ignore the Game and avoid Immortals whenever possible." Gazing up at him, Aingil started to protest, but seeing hte expression on his face, closed her mouth and started as she realized tears wet her face. Wiping a tear from her cheek, Methos stepped closer to her. "Someday our lives will line up, Aingil, and we'll be together. A love like this can't be denied forever. It's the greatest reason of all for me to stay alive." Nodding, Aingil caressed his jaw for a moment before moving to the door. "Come to the library. I'll send for the magistrate to perform your manumission." She left him packing clothes into a leather bag. 


	5. present day

"You don't look too well, Adam." Joe Bryne pointed out, handing the exhausted Immortal a beer. "I feel like hell." The five thousand year old Immortal mumbled, rubbing his reddened eyes tiredly. "What's going on?" Duncan MacLeod asked, smiling thanks at his gray haired Watcher as Joe gave him a glass of red wine and turning back to Methos, who sat at the bar in a wrinkled black trench coat and trademark gray sweater with jeans. "I've been having dreams...about Caesar Augustus." Methos admitted, looking up with an expression that dared either of them to mock him. "You knew Caesar Augustus?" Joe asked, impressed for once as Methos nodded and added: "Loved his second wife." "You had an affair with the Emperor of Rome's wife?!" Duncan asked in disbelief. Only about four hundred years old himself, he was still surprised by Methos' past. "I never said that." Methos retorted bitterly. "I loved her. She knew it and Caesar knew it, but nothing ever happened...he would've exiled her and killed me. Just like he did to Julia and her lovers after I told him about her behavior." "So you were the one who tattletales on the Caesar's daughter." Joe mocked. "And she killed Aingil for it too." Methos shot back angrily, "Took away Aingil's chance to have kids and live happily with Augustus!" "Damn." "The secrets history never teaches you." Methos said dryly, "It never recorded that some friends of Aingil's took off with her body allowing her to wake up in a carriage on the way to the Italian Coast either." "The Caesar was married to a Pre-Immortal?!" Duncan asked in surprise. "We're everywhere, MacLeod. Shouldn't shock you." Methos chided. "I know, I know." Duncan replied, shaking his dark head. "So what are these dreams about?" "Well..." Methos began slowly, fiddling with his bottle. "Caesar comes and he's all decomposing...Covered with rotting flesh, maggots falling out of his eye..." "Ah, man, come on!" Joe protested, picking up his cane as if to hit his best friend with it. "Sorry." Methos stated with an unrepentant look. "Anyway, he just repeated over and over these words he told me back in Rome." "Which were?" Duncan asked. "'She seems to love you...Hurt her and I'll haunt you through eternity.'" Methos recited, leaving out that he'd been a slave. "I guess he's decided to take up his threat."  
  
Sitting up in bed in a cold sweat, Methos tossed back the tangled sheet and blanket and got out of bed. Getting a glass of water from the bathroom, he drank it and glanced at the photo beside his bed. It was a picture of Aingil of around about 1810, taken in England. He's bullied a photographer into giving him a copy after finding her living in London. Fleeing an angry slave owning Immortal, Methos hadn't told Aingil he was there and she seemed to be married again so he decided to forego the scab removing like pain of entering her life and leaving again. Sighing, Methos wondered why he was having this dream every night. He normally kept track of Aingil's whereabouts and though recently her Watcher, and his best source of information, had been silent, he didn't understand why this would cue Augustus to start 'haunting' him. "I need some sleep, Caesar. Give me a break." He muttered, turning to set the water back on the bathroom counter. Swearing as the cup slipped, Methos wiped water from his muscled chest before heading back to bed, annoyed with himself.  
  
A few sleepless nights later, Methos sat in Joe's bar again with Joe and Duncan. Dim and pleasant, Joe's bar was a bit of an English pub in Paris and Methos appreciated it. He'd had enough of eating strange foods in Rome and knew he could come in for some decent food and beer.  
'Peacock brains, eels, liver of strange animals...We ate, we drank, we vomited.' Sipping from his beer bottle, Methos felt exhaustion that was more than just the lack of sleep. Duncan MacLeod's strong sense of honor had, to Methos' irritation, reawakened his conscience so he's been sticking around Paris to look after the Immortal he deemed deserving of the Prize. He was still in hiding as his own Watcher, but more aware of the Game than he'd been in the two thousand years since he'd left Aingil in Rome. Both Methos and Duncan suddenly sensed a new Immortal presence and Methos reached for his jacket, planning to flee as Duncan looked to the bar entrance. A small, dark haired Spaniard walked inside and seeing Methos standing and throwing money on the bar, she stiffened. "You!" She accused, her brown eyes flashing. "Another old slave?" Duncan asked in a seemingly joking manner. Methos knew better. "No..." He answered slowly, looking at Lucia with pained eyes. "Why are you here, Remus?" She demanded angrily, hands on her hips. "Last I checked, Paris was open to all travelers." Methos replied dryly. "Remus?! What the hell sort of name..." Joe began. "Roman slave's, alright?" Methos replied peevishly, shooting Joe an annoyed look. "I should kill you for the pain you caused her!" Lucia growled, reaching inside her trench coat. "I caused her?! You have no idea what you're talking about!" Methos protested, hurt and angry. "I hate the French..." Aingil broke off as she came inside, freezing as she saw Methos standing across the room.  
  
Surprising everyone including herself, Aingil threw herself into Methos' arms and burst into tears as she clung to his gray shirt. "Everyone says you're dead..." She mumbled, sniffing and completely unaware of the confused looks the others were giving her. Methos had been stunned unresponsive for a moment, but he now held her tightly and stroked her hair as he tried to believe this was actually happening. "What happened to you, Methos?" Aingil asked, looking up at him with a tear stained face and ignoring Lucia's gasp of surprise. "I disappeared like I told you I would." Methos answered softly, tracing a finger lightly over her cheek and lips. Pulling away abruptly, Aingil glared up at him. "Two thousand years and you couldn't even drop me a bloody letter?!" Frowning slightly at her sudden anger, Methos reached out to grasp her shoulders, trying to calm her. "Aingil, I..." "I suppose your Immortal buddy here has known where you were?!" She waved a hand at Duncan angrily, not even glancing in his direction. "I'm only..." "Shut up!" Aingil commanded furiously, scowling over at Duncan as his mouth snapped shut in surprise. "I've kept track of you." Methos confessed stiffly. "Buy you haven't shown yourself." Aingil pointed out. "No, I was..." "Screw you!" Aingil interrupted in a low voice, clenching her fists angrily. Methos stated something in Arabic with a mocking smile, only to have it fade as Aingil slapped him and stalked from the bar.  
  
To the three men's further surprise, Lucia didn't immediately follow her friend. "You want your pound of flesh too?" Methos asked in a self mocking smile as he raked a hand through his raven black hair. "I do actually." Lucia replied tightly, "You two have had two thousand years and its about time you got it together or got the hell over one another and moved on! I'm sick of you loving Immortals and not taking advantage of the good fortune that brings!" Pausing as she teared up slightly, Lucia added: "We're staying at the Ritz-Carlton. Don't take too long, Remus. You two may just run out of time." She said the last sentence softly and Methos looked at her sharply. He opened his mouth to question her, but Lucia disappeared silently after her friend.  
  
In the hotel suite's common room, Aingil had thrown her black leather trench coat on the coach and paced barefooted in a sundress, similar in style to her Roman gowns of old. "This is a complication I don't need!" She fussed, not looking up as the door opened and an Immortal entered. "A complication to what? What's going on, Aingil?" Methos' voice demanded, startling her. "What are you doing here?! How...How did you get in here?" Aingil asked the second question fearfully and Methos frowned in concern as he slowly moved toward her, speaking soothingly. "Lucia let me in, my love. Tell me what's going on! Lucia said something about us running 'out of time'. I haven't seen any reports come through from your Watcher either." Pain filled Aingil's eyes at the mention of her Watcher and she ducked her head. "Caitlin was...attacked. She's in a hospital in Toronto unconscious. Wait...How'd you know her reports had stopped?" Giving her a lopsided grin, Methos pushed back his sleeve to reveal a tattoo on his wrist. "Adam Pierson, Watcher of the Immortal, Methos, who is a supposed legend and myth." "You're plan worked then." Aingil stated softly, no longer angry with him as she looked away from the Watcher tattoo and moved to stare out of the large hotel room windows. "Aingil..." Methos began painfully, "I never thought you'd believe I was dead. If I'd known..." "I thought i saw you once. In London." Aingil interrupted quietly. "Really?!" Methos asked in surprise, raking his brain to try and remember when she may have spotted him. "It was 1810, I think... He'd know that it would be that year and nodded abesntly trying to think when he'd been close enough for her to sense and see him. Remembering his weakness, Methos met her eyes with a slight smile.  
  
Pausing to straighten the hem of her blue silk gown, Aingil smiled slightly at her escort as the blonde man hovered above her. Believing himself to be a poet, Edward was a lean, aristocratic featured man of Aingil's own height with a constantly whimsical expression. Aingil knew he'd rather be leading his mentor, Lucia, for this dance, but she was dancing with the Duke of Worchestshire. "Don't pout, Edward. It mars your countenance. You shall have another dance with Lucia later and for now you are stuck with myself." Before Edward could protest that she was quite wonderful, the dance started and the couples were separated as the partners moved elegantly down the line of dancers. Feeling the buzz of an Immortal, Aingil glanced at Edward, but he was too new to his Immortality to be able to tell the number of Immortals nearby. Lucia met Aingil's gaze in concern, but all Aingil could do was shrug and look around the ballroom nervously. Glancing toward the ballroom's main entrance, Aingil's eyes paused on a familiar build clad in a black cloak and silk top hat, his back to her. He spoke with the hostess, a plump flirtatious matron named Lady Wentworth before turning to leave, giving Aingil only a glance of his handsome profile before he was gone. Blinking, Aingil fought sad memories and wondered if she'd really even seen Methos or only wished it after all this time. 


End file.
